Drip. Drip. Gurgle. Swish. Splash.

The water sounds.

Deeper and deeper, darker and colder. It drags you down, fills your lungs, burns your throat. Takes your warmth, and claims your soul.

It caresses your skin, cradles your form, plays with your hair. It washes the grime, runs down stone, grinds the sand to fold beneath your toes.

The water goes.

It brings forth life, draws it from the bitter soil. Expanding, growing green from reflective blue. It cleans us, it nourishes us, it runs through our veins to cool and to freeze.

The water gives.

It pours from the heavens, always falling, always flowing. Never stopping, with no real destination. It crawls in ripples, coming in soothing waves, a ghost of a touch, like a loving guardian.

It crashes down like thunder. Bowling over and dragging you under. In an instant, it changes, it strikes and claims, dragging you deeper into it’s depths, taking your from the sun and the green.

And the water takes.

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